


The Funny Thing About Memories

by AfflictedwithAlliteration



Series: Dark Chocolate [8]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Amnesiac Reader, Bittersweet Ending, But He Loves You, Hurt and comfort, Misunderstandings, NON-GENDERED READER, Reader is an anxious thing, Reader worries too much, Reader-Insert, Sans is kind of a shithead, Snippet, Some fluff memories?, non-linear story telling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 20:30:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19731232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AfflictedwithAlliteration/pseuds/AfflictedwithAlliteration
Summary: You want to remember, you just can't.





	The Funny Thing About Memories

_“Why would I get lost?” You laugh, “Just because I’ve forgotten some stuff doesn’t make me an invalid.”_

_“Alright. Just making sure you weren’t gonna get lost.”_

_“It’ll be fine.” You wave to the receiver as if he can see you through the phone, grin on you face as you walk, “I’ve got a great sense of direction.”_

_There’s an uncomfortable silence. One you’re beginning to recognize but you can’t even backtrack before his soft voice reaches your ears._

_**“That’s not what you said before.”** _

* * *

_**“You’re quiet.”** _

_“Sorry I’m just—trying to figure it out.” You murmur as you stare at the album. The person it the pictures is you. A mirror could tell you that much and you’d hoped the smiling face would tell you something but…_

_There’s nothing._

_You stare at it harder like it will force the memories back. Desperate to recognize one thing in all this strangeness as his words echo in your ears. Quiet. Was the you in the pictures loud? Or maybe just chatty? Did you share all your thoughts? Did you stutter or speak with purpose?_

_“In this picture where were we? When was it?” You point to another at random, “Who’s that?”_

* * *

_It’s beautiful._

_The most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. Maybe there will be others but this is—“How did you find this place?”_

_**“You don’t remember?”** _

_You can’t help the flinch as you gaze back at his unreadable expression. Something in you twists painfully, so tight and sharp it’s like you’re being stabbed. The words won’t come, and you give an awkward shake of your head so you don’t have to see the disappointment flash across his features._

* * *

_The server smiles though they look like they don’t really believe you. It isn’t surprising, but all the basic things you remember how to do—eat, bathe, walk, breathe—don’t compare to learning how food tastes again._

_“No, really, it’s great!” You gush, dipping another fry in with gusto as the waiter gives you a strange look then leaves with a nod. You’re halfway done with the plate before you catch his expression._

_**“That’s new.”** _

_The food sticks in your throat, and you glance down, “Oh?”_

* * *

_**“You’ll remember.”** He squeezes your hand reassuringly, but his voice seems to be directed at himself as you stare at the unfamiliar house. You smile weakly and nod then let him help you into the house. _

_The house that you know nothing about._

_A part of you would rather go back to the hospital because at least that had grown familiar but his tight grip never lets up as he leads you in and through the house. The piercing gaze watching restlessly for things you can’t remember, apologies falling from your lips likes it’s the only words you recall how to say._

* * *

_Going back to work seemed like a good idea but you couldn’t be certain you were doing it right. The paintings, both finished and unfinished around the house you used as inspiration. But his silence…nerves ate away at your stomach until you couldn’t bear the silence anymore._

_“Well?” You coax, unable to wait long for an answer but his face gives away nothing. It never does. Still you try to keep the smile on your face, hands clenched behind your back._

_**“It’s…different.”** _

* * *

_“I don’t know if I can—”_

_He hands, always in yours give you a confident squeeze, his smile genuine and soft. **“It’s fine, you like it.”**_

_But you didn’t._

* * *

Each phrase is a small sliver. But they widen every time their said, trapping the words you want to say in reply until you selfishly wish you’d never remember at all. You know he doesn’t mean anything by it. In fact, sometimes you feel sorry for him because you aren’t…you. You probably will never be you again, not the way you were before because even when—if—you get those memories back…

They belong to someone else. 

You didn’t actually experience it and you’ll only ever have the memory of it. Like watching someone else’s life. The weight of the expectation crushes the you now until you feel like you’re constantly tip-toeing, trying to gauge their reactions before you reply. You have to make sure the answers are right until all you can do is the same thing you always do, bit your tongue, smile, and—

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

But this time—you grit your teeth and spin to face him, “I do!”

“What?”

“I do worry about it!” You snap, ready to pull out your own hair in frustration, “There’s—you—what if I don’t get my memories back, huh? What if I never remember? What if I never go back to what I was like before?!”

_What if you won’t love me anymore?_

_What if I can’t love you anymore?_

These questions you can’t voice. They’re lodged in your throat until they choke you. It feels like you’re drowning and the surprise on his face—

This was the wrong thing to say too. 

You want to go back.

You should have never told him.

* * *

_“How do you feel?”_

_The face._

_It’s not familiar._

_And that hurts more than the bandages you see wrapped around your arms._

_Your breathing hitches. But then again, nothing here is familiar. Not the room, the face, your hands, the tree outside the window, the clock, the—_

_“…bad.” You whisper out and his face crumples in response, but you can’t stop talking, “I don’t know—”_

_“It’s alright, you’re in the hospital. The accident, remember?”_

_You frown and feel your pulse quicken more, there’s a loud roaring in your eyes as you stare at him like a deer in headlights._

_“No.”_

_“That’s okay, we’ll—”_

_“No!” You’re surprised at how loud your shout is, and he even twitches a bit, worry clear on his face now as you continue, panic on your own face but your next words are hardly louder than a whisper, “I don’t remember anything.”_

* * *

It doesn’t matter that you’re in the middle of the street, you’re crying before you can stop yourself. You turn away because you don’t want to look at him and tell him how you used to be stronger or how you cried different or anything at all! Maybe that’s why you miss the expression of utter panic that crosses his features before he’s pulling you into him and then—

The smell of home. But is it your home or someone else’s? 

You cry harder but you cling to him because he’s all you and the person you were before have in common. Because you love him. His helping hand, how patient he was, his stupid jokes, his socks that you borrowed because you could never find yours but he—

He loved the other you.

The one he looked for in everything you did.

You shove him away.

But he holds you tighter, using his magic to keep you in place, “Let me go!”

“No!” He’s quiet but there’s an edge to his voice that you hadn’t heard before. It’s the only thing that stills you, that and the knowledge that maybe the other you didn’t fight his magic. 

For a long moment neither of you move. He just holds you until you can’t cry anymore, and only then does his magic fade, but you don’t pull away. You swallow.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry.”

For a second you think you said it twice but the expression on his face says you both said it. He shakes his head, chalky fingers covering your lips. 

“Lemme talk first.” You nod slowly as his hand falls away to scratch at his cheek. But he doesn’t speak immediately, a faraway look in his eyes before his gaze meets yours again. Softer than you’d expected it to be. “I’m sorry I made you think…whatever you thought. It wasn’t about—you weren’t—look, sweetheart, I—” his face tints blue but he continues, keeping his eyes on yours, “—love you. It’s not gonna change ‘cause you can’t remember something. It’s you. Even if some things change. You're you.”

* * *

_  
You can’t find anything to say in reply until you hear his laugh, “Guess that means you don’t need my shortcuts and you can walk all the way—”_

_“Hey! I never said that!” You whine, thinking of how far work was, “That’s not fair, Sans!”_

* * *

_The laughter startles you out of your panicked rambles, your ears heating as you avoid his gaze. What did you mess up this time?_

_“Sweetheart,” he moves beside you, “I wasn’t saying you had to talk. Just trying to see if you’re okay.”_

_“Oh.” You feel ridiculous for being so sensitive but the feeling fades as he just begins to narrate the pictures with fondness. And it’s almost like you can picture them happening._

* * *

_“Well,” he drawls, coming closer, “Guess now you can’t be mad I forgot our anniversary.”_

_All the nerves flee as you stare at him in shock, “What.”_

_“I mean, seeing how you can’t even remember where we got married.”_

_You narrow your eyes, heart skipping a beat because you’re almost a hundred percent sure monsters can’t marry humans yet but the thought sends you into a frenzy. How could you forget you’re married?!_

_Then he’s laughing, so loud the nearby wildlife scatters and you flush, stomping your foot angrily, “Sans! That’s not funny!”_

_“Is too.”_

_“It’s not!”_

_He raises his hands in surrender, “Alright, alright. Memory problems are no joke—”_

_“Exactly.”_

_“’Cause you can’t remember the punchline.” You shriek in outrage as you tackle him, thoroughly ready to strangle him when his hand cups your cheek softly, “Doesn’t matter though, ‘cause I’ll remember it for us.”_

_“That’s lame, Sans.”_

_But you think he deserves the kiss anyway._

* * *

_“Yeah,” he looks even more crestfallen when you don’t correct whatever you’ve done wrong. Panic wells in your chest. You don’t even know how you’ve managed to mess up eating but you have and—“Since when don’t you share your fries?”_

_You breathe out a sigh of relief before you send a fry straight into his shocked face. The ketchup splatters across his bone and your grin with the knowledge that it will stain._

_“Get your own.” You retort cheerily. That’s what he gets for making you worry._

* * *

_“Stop.” The words die in your throat and you can’t look at the stranger beside you because even though you don’t remember them there’s…a tightness. A clenching of your very soul at the thought of already ruining whatever this is. Cautiously you turn to face him, expecting something other than a smile but that’s all there is._

_A smile._

_His eye lights are bright and clear as he speaks, “You don’t need to force yourself, they’re just pictures in a house. We’ll take new ones. You’ll learn where the bathroom is, promise.”_

_“I don’t need the bathroom.” You respond in confusion._

_“See? So you don’t even need to remember where it is yet.”_

_That pulls a laugh out of you before he tugs you along once more._

* * *

_“Different…bad?”_

_“No,” he’s still staring at the painting, “Just different. Kinda looks like when you first started.”_

_You slump in relief._

_“And sucked.”_

_“What the hell, Sans?!”_

* * *

_The smile is gone from his face and you took it. You suck in your lips as your fingers tap the steering wheel. You should just drive home but—_

_“I’m sorry. I just—”_

_“I lied.”_

_“…what?”_

_“You never liked swimming.”_

_You frown at Sans, finally turning to face him since you left the pool, “Then why did we go?!”_

_“I just…needed to know if….” His words trial off but you can fill in the blanks. You want to be angry but all you can feel is some strange sort of relief. You may be a little different but you were still you and even he needed to know that sometimes._

__

__

_This time you give him a smile, your own words of pseudo comfort coming out wobbly as you start the car, “Yeah. It’s…good to know. Thank you.”_

_“…you’re welcome.” You can hear the relief in his voice and the drive home is quiet except for the gentle scrape of his bone across the center console as he carefully twins your hands together before falling asleep._

* * *

You’re crying again because you weren’t the only one lost and confused, but you’d only focused on those words. Your own insecurities lashing out. He looks worried now, wiping your tears away and—

“I love you.” You whisper, “I think I remembered that because it was the only important part. From the minute I woke up. I was—”

He snorts, “That I know.”

You’re both quiet again, just holding each other on the couch and it feels…familiar. Maybe not a real memory but the knowledge of comfort is there just like it always is. You’ll probably need to talk about it. You’re sure you do. You’re sure there’s lots of things both of you keep forgetting to say.

That’s the trouble with memory though, you forget things all the time. Forget where you left your keys. Forget what you ate for lunch. Forget what you learned in third grade but this. This feeling. You let your eyes slip shut as you snuggle closer, the arms around you tightening—

This feeling isn’t something you can ever forget.

**Author's Note:**

> I cringed at the end. I can't do sap and fluff well. This was meant to be only angst. Angst and breakups but I wanted to try more fluff. Fluff is weird, not sure if I did it right. Enjoy it anyway XD


End file.
